Fall and Rescue
by JoeCoolNerd
Summary: You take the step, I watch you fall. You hit the pavement and blood flows.


**Fall and Rescue**

**Chapter 1**

Disclaimer:

I don't own Sherlock; neither BBC's nor Sir Author Doyle's.

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"_Don't make people in heroes John. Heroes don't exist and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them."_

You take the step, I watch you fall.

You hit the pavement and blood flows.

I try to reach you but, people block my way.

When I come its too late.

Your eyes are staring up at nothing.

They lower casket into the ground.

People are crying, stricken with grief.

But not me.

I just stare on vacantly, numb with disbelief.

I feel so detached as if I was watching all this from afar.

They offer me their condolences, saying how sorry they are.

Months pass by and news of your "innocence" is finally released into the press. I was one of the people who helped "discover" and "prove" your innocence. But, not really. I always knew you weren't a fraud. Even when you made the call, your last call, I knew. There was no way anyone could be _that_ good at lying.

Yet, none of this matters to me. You fell Sherlock. You fell. And you weren't the only one. When you fell, I fell too. No more where you there to keep me sane. The moment you fell and left me, John was no more. There's an empty gap now, right here, where my heart is.

A year has passed and I am still falling down. Despair and loneliness are my only company now. I don't go out and I have stopped showing up at work long ago. All day they would stare and come to me asking, "Are you all right?"

"Oh, me? No, I'm fine I just witnessed my best friend commit suicide." Idiots. I'm no longer at our flat. (How odd it feels to say that.) I left it a few months back. Now, I live here. I'll admit it isn't the best of places but the rent is cheaper and people don't come by as often to pity me. Why? Why did you leave me?

**~Time passes~**

I wake up and stare wearily at the "ceiling". I get up slowly from my "bed" and stretch, my long dirty blond hair swishing softly as I do. When I finish stretching, I attempt to somehow remove some of the hair but it just comes back forward. I probably should have cut it a while back but it's not like I actually care about it now. Taking my bag from its nook in the wall, I brush off the grime and filth it got from its spot. My hands fumble at the buckles, which refuse to open. I rub my hand together in a vain attempt to get them warm. After several attempts they finally open and I sigh.

I take out the equipment and start a fire with the newspapers that flew in during the night. 'Who would've thought it would end up like this,' I think bitterly putting the kettle over the fire. I scoop some tea and put it in the kettle, sitting down while I wait for the tea to be ready. If you had told me a year or so ago that I would end up living in an abandoned tunnel near the edges of London I would have laughed and called you crazy.

But this, _this_ is my home now. My tunnel with my stuff, my place. Of course, John Watson wouldn't live here but I'm not "John" anymore. The tea is ready and I think about what job I should do today.

I end up being someone's temp sniper. It isn't one of the best jobs I've ever had but it isn't the worst either. No questions asked; just sit there and if anyone comes by-shoot them. Maybe, it wasn't decent but he was for hire on both sides. He didn't really care as long as he got paid and had something to do.

Pay in my pocket, I head towards my favorite dealer. I probably had enough fro 340mg and max 500mg. It all depends on the prices today.

**~3 Years After The Reinbach Fall~**

_A middle aged man is seen walking rapidly through the busy streets of London. The snow wips at his jacket and he turns his collar up against the wind. His hair once full black now has dashes of white going through it. His head is bent down against sending his straight hair flying as he half mutters/ half thinks about himself._

'I can't believe I have to walk to work today, its so cold out. The Tube was delayed because of some accident and I don't have Sherlock's magical cab-hailing ability. Today is just to busy at the Yard. Since Sherlock- fall we've been up to our necks in criminals and cases.'

'We need to find him. I mean after hanging around him so much had had just had to know something or two. So, we went to Baker Street and Mrs. Hudson said that he left a couple months after Sherlock's accident. Poor old lady broke into tears.

'After asking around, we found out that he had moved to another flat quite away from Baker Street. The place was dingy and dusty compared to the 221B. Inside we asked about John. The owner told us and I quote, "That bloke ain't been here for years. Just go his things and left." We went around asked all the places we could if anyone had seen John. We even asked Harry who, drunk, told us to piss off.'

'We had lost John. Before, in the beginning we would check on him, visits and such. When we were sure he was okay we started leaving him alone with an occasional trip to the pub on the weekends. Somehow, we stopped being with him and rarely heard from him. He could be anywhere now and I promised him too.'

'How did we not notice you were gone?' I walk faster, my breath making small puffs on the air. 'We posted Missing people signs everywhere. We even got Mycroft to help and he has CCTV cameras and his people in London all on the look out. Yet, we've heard nothing. Absolutely, NOTHING!'

The wind blows and I put my head lower. 'It's so cold and windy today. Are you okay John? Are you warm? Forgive me. I'm sorry John.'

_Honk Honk_

I freeze on the crosswalk. 'The red tour bus is coming straight at me. I am going to be run over. Why can't I move? Move! Shit. I close and brace for the impact when something or should I say _someone _pushed me onto the sidewalk and out of the way of the bus.'

I open my eyes slowly, and see the person who saved me. "Thank-," my breath catches in my throat.

"John?"

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Originally was suppose to be a one-shot poem but then it turned into this…Should I continue? Review!

3


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